I Love Birthdays
by Sophia Hawkins
Summary: Story for "Subway" (1985). What happened to Fred after the concert at the subway station? And what happened to Helena? One-shot, rated for the same kind of language used in the movie, just less of it.


I Love Birthdays

Author's note: Here we have a one-shot follow up story for the 1985 movie "Subway" which starred Christopher Lambert. Since the film left us hanging on the outcome of Fred's fate, I decided to come up with a more conclusive ending of my own. Some lines used from the film may not be fully accurate because I alternated between the English subtitles and English dub. Hope you enjoy!

"Happy birthday to you…"

_I love birthdays_.

"Happy birthday to you…"

_I spent 5 hours in surgery, 5 months recovering, couldn't utter a word for 5 years. It happened on my 5__th__ birthday. The law of numbers. I've loved birthdays ever since that day._

"Happy birthday dear Fred…"

He knew that voice, soft, low…

"Happy birthday to you…"

Helena. She was here? If she was here, then…

"I'm alive?"

His eyelids felt heavy as he opened them and looked up at Helena. She was almost smiling at him. He gave her a full smile though his eyes were about closed again and he said, "I must be alive, because even if they'd shot you along with me, you wouldn't be where I'm going."

"You'll live," Helena returned the full smile.

Fred moved to reach for her but felt a sharp pain rip through his body.

"Where did they shoot me?" he asked, "In the front or back?" Then something else occurred to him. He didn't know _what_ day it was but he was certain about one thing, "Today's not my birthday."

Helena moved and Fred saw her pick a small gift box up from the nightstand in his hospital room.

"You said you loved birthdays," she told him as she walked over to his bed and put the box on his lap, "Why not have an extra one?"

Fred maintained his constant stare at her. "You're cute when you try being civil."

"Aren't you going to open your present?" Helena asked.

Fred slowly shook his head and continued to ogle her.

"Why not?" she asked.

Out of nowhere, Fred asked her, "Does your husband know you're here?"

The question took her by surprise, but not for long. She quickly recovered and calmly explained, "Little Orphan Annie got out from under Daddy Warbucks' ruling fist."

"You left him?" Fred asked, his eyes a little wider in surprise.

Helena ran a hand through her hair and teased it a little so it bore some resemblance to her Iroquois look and told him, "Don't you know Indian women were always divorcing their husbands?"

Fred felt his smile spread from ear to ear, his eyes squinted at her. Then he asked her, "You get any money in the divorce?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Not a cent."

"The cook? The housekeeper?" Fred asked.

"No, none of it," Helena told him.

Fred leaned back against the pillows on his bed and felt his smile grow impossibly larger as he commented, "Fantastic." Then he thought to ask, "So what's in it for you?"

"My freedom," Helena answered, "My sanity."

"Ah," Fred purred as he squinted his eyes again, "You can't put a price on those."

"I didn't realize I was going crazy until after I'd gotten to be with you and your friends in the subway station," Helena said, "So when I went back to my husband, I acted insane to reclaim my own sanity in a mansion full of crazy people."

Helena related a few events from that fateful dinner she'd attended when she'd sported her Iroquois hairdo for all her husband's uppity friends to see, and let all of them know what she really thought about them and their meager problems and their so called lives. Fred laughed as well as he could given the pain he was still in from being shot and after a while fell back against the pillows and thought he was going to fall asleep again.

"Fred," Helena's voice was full of concern now. He looked to her and she told him, "They're going to arrest you as soon as you're discharged from the hospital."

"Somebody tries to kill me, they actually succeed in _shooting_ me, and _I'm_ the one being arrested?" Fred asked, "Sounds about right."

"You don't seem concerned," Helena noted.

Fred folded his arms to his chest and said, "I told you before, I have a thing against safes, I see one, I blow it, right?"

"Yes," Helena was confused, "So?"

"So why should I be worried?" Fred asked, "A cell is merely a larger safe." He looked around the hospital room and tried to remember if he remembered seeing it before. "How long have I been in here?"

"A few days," Helena said.

"And you're my only visitor," he noted.

"No," Helena shook her head, "Your friends came to see you. Paul, the Drummer, Mr. Saxophone, Big Bill…you were too sedated to notice."

"What about Jean-Louis?" Fred asked her.

"The police caught him," Helena said.

"Eh," Fred said dismissively, "A minor setback, we'll get him out."

"How?" Helena asked.

Fred thought about it for a minute, and said, "We'll have Big Bill do the same thing to the bars that he did with my handcuffs."

Helena caught him glancing around the room and she took a look around it at too, and tried to see it through the eyes of a 5-year-old child. She sat down on the edge of his bed and asked him, "Is this…familiar?"

"A little," Fred answered, "Except this time I can talk…and I could almost…" he turned to Helena and said, "Before I was brought to the hospital, I was singing, wasn't I? The band was playing at the station, and I was _singing_."

Helena didn't know if he had or not. She'd been too busy trying to beat the shit out of the asshole who shot Fred. Had he _really_ sang?

"Can you sing now?" she asked.

"I…" Fred stopped and seemed to think about the question. He lay flat on his back, looked up at the ceiling, started to slightly bob his head one way and the other, snapped his fingers, building up a rhythm, and tried to remember the song that had been playing when he'd been shot, irony of all ironies, "Guns, don't, kill people…people kill people, I said…guns…don't…kill people…people kill people…ba-ba-ba-do-be-do." He stopped and a look of amazement came over him, he turned to Helena and exclaimed, "I can _sing_!"

Helena wrapped one arm around him congratulatory and awkwardly, trying not to hurt him more than he already was.

"Good for you, Fred," she said, "I suppose now the band will have an extra member on vocals."

"Who, me?" Fred asked, pointing a finger at himself, "Nah…putting it together, getting them a concert, that was good enough for me."

A moment of silence passed between them before Helena asked him, "So what now, Fred?"

"You mean before or after I go to jail?" he asked, a knowing look on his face as he stared at her.

Helena disregarded his question, "You can't go back to the subway."

"Who says I can't?" he asked.

"Where were you before the subway?" she asked.

He shrugged, "Who knows? That was a lifetime ago, _everything_ was a lifetime ago until you invited me to the birthday party." He sat up and asked Helena, "You gonna go with me when I get out of here?"

She didn't answer, only asked him in response, "Do you love me, Fred?"

He took a moment and seemed to seriously be wondering it, before he nodded at her.

"When did you first know it?" she inquired.

"…When you invited me to the birthday party," he answered, "I knew then. I told you before, too many people at the house to try talking to anyone, had to get you alone to someplace more private. Worked, didn't it?"

Helena just laughed, and Fred laughed with her. Helena reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a picture and held it out for Fred. He took it and looked at it, the picture of Helena when she was 9 years old. He squinted his eyes and smiled at it and gave his familiar, "Ha-ha" laugh at it. Then he looked to Helena and asked her, "You like kids?"

"I suppose so," Helena answered.

"Good," Fred opened his eyes wider to look at her as he explained, "I like kids too."

Helena fought back the small giggle that tried to get loose and she asked him, "You want to have children, Fred?"

He nodded eagerly, "Yep…want a whole lot of them, boys, girls, don't matter to me. Want a girl though, want one who grows up to look like this," and held the picture back up for Helena to see, to see herself from once upon a time, some 20 years back in the past. Helena smiled, whether it was at her old self, or Fred's words, or the idea of having a child with him, was anybody's guess.

"Alright," she said, as if she was seriously considering it, "But promise me something. _No_ trying to drive under a truck with them in the car when they turn 5 years old."

"Oh hey," Fred shook his head and raised his hand, "No problem, got a better idea, spend the day teaching them how to blow a safe."

Helena chuckled and replied, "Or have Jean-Louis teach them how to roller skate."

Fred laughed and reminded her, "First we gotta get him out of jail."

"Or we could have Big Bill make some more fireworks like he did under the station," she added.

"Or take turns trying to figure out what The Drummer's name is," Fred said.

Helena laughed and dropped on the bed beside him. "Happy birthday, Fred."

"I told you," he said, ignoring the kiss he got on the cheek, "It's not my birthday."

"Alright, then it's my birthday," she told him, "You love birthdays, so does it really matter _whose_ birthday it is?"

He turned and looked at her inquisitively and asked, "What do you mean _your_ birthday?"

She wrapped her arm around him and answered, "I feel reborn after meeting you."

Fred was quiet for several long seconds and just stared at her, before he finally said, "It's a nice feeling, isn't it?"

Helena smiled at him and leaned over and kissed him on the other cheek, and the two lay alongside each other on the narrow hospital bed. Fred put an arm around her and under his breath he hummed a few bars from Paul's song, before finally opening his mouth and supplying the vocals himself, "How can we keep on watching, that fucking TV? We're so bored, we don't even care what we see; takes our strength away, and never, never shows us the way. But I think I know the answer…it's only mystery, and I like it…it's only mystery, and I like it…it's only mystery, and I like it."

"We're going to be fine, aren't we, Fred?" Helena asked him.

He glanced to her and slowly nodded. "Of course you realize what this means, Cinderella...a new start; no money, no rich husband, you can't afford to be lazy anymore. _Now_, now you're going to have to do your own cooking instead of having the cook do it, and do your own housework instead of having a housekeeper do it, and as for the lovemaking..."

Helena cupped his jaw in her hand and pressed his lips together to shut him up and she coyly looked at him and said, "_I'll_ take care of that, you leave _that_ job to me." Then she removed her hand and let him speak again.

"Ha-ha," Fred smirked at her, his eyes glowing now instead of his face.


End file.
